My trip home next month is weighing heavily on me. The last time I was up there was 93 or 94. And the pall of my father’s health hangs over everything. It's a dark, dark cloud that may or may not take him from me.
The uncertainty is maddening. It makes me crazy more often than not.
I have airline tickets and a rental car lined up, bills and paychecks in line and some extra money in the bank. Still, trepidation looms, like one of those horizons so black that you know all hell’s gonna break loose soon.
Shannon has been, and is continuing to be, a gem. He’s more enthused about my trip home than I am. Not so he can play around while I’m gone, but because he thinks it’s important to me. Actually, he knows that it's important to me.
It’ll be the longest we’ve been apart in a while (if you don’t count the time when he was in the hospital and I was a visitor, albeit one with power of attorney).
I’m consumed by uncertainty, by not knowing what to expect when I get there or how many games I’ll have to play to not address the gay issue openly. I don’t intend to cause problems, but if the subject comes up, I’ll just have to speak the truth and tough it out.
I’m taking enough cash to get a motel room if I have to (they don’t have hotels where I was raised).
Shannon’s right that I need to go home, regardless of the reception.
I only have one Daddy, and I intend to see him at least one more time.
JM
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